


If it Keeps on Rainin', Levee's Goin' to Break

by shocked_into_shame



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, secret pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 17:19:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18473530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shocked_into_shame/pseuds/shocked_into_shame
Summary: In a world where soulmates only know they are soulmates until they kiss and the bond is sealed, Steve is afraid that he's never going to meet his missing piece.And there's no way in hell that Billy - who makes Steve's blood boil day in and day out - could possibly be that missing piece.No way.[a soulmate AU]





	If it Keeps on Rainin', Levee's Goin' to Break

**Author's Note:**

> not to be dramatic but this is my magnum opus

Growing up, Steve was always eager to meet his soulmate. A soulmate is what will complete him, make him whole. He’s spent countless nights in the safety of his bed, huddled up in warm covers, wondering what she’ll be like. What she’ll look like, what she’ll smell like, what it’ll feel like to press his lips against hers. 

 

That’s the thing about soulmates. You don’t know who your soulmate is until you kiss them. Once you kiss, or so Steve has heard, you become permanently bonded to that person in every way. Your soul calls out to theirs, and their soul calls back in return. 

 

Because of this, some people go their whole lives never realizing someone is their soulmate.  Steve is terrified of ending up like that, ending up old and grey and only  _ then _ finding out that someone in his life is actually meant for him. 

 

The only warning, his mother once told him, back when the days when his parents were there far outnumbered the days they were gone, is the intensity. Soulmates are known to have strong, fervid feelings for the other person right away. 

 

Sometimes strong feelings of love or affection, and other times strong feelings of lust, or even just of admiration. They feel so much for each other, and then once they kiss they  _ know _ . Know that they are destined to be with each other, that their souls were hand-picked to compliment one another. 

 

So when Steve meets Nancy Wheeler, a beautiful girl who sits in the front of his English class, he takes in her big blue eyes and sweet face, her tiny button nose and kind smile. He feels instant, strong affection for her, and thinks he’d be content to wrap his arms around her and never let go. 

 

She must be his.  _ Must  _ be. 

 

Even though she isn’t typically the kind of girl he would go for he pursues her, and she seems just as interested in return. And when they finally begin to date, and Steve leans in for their first kiss, pressing his lips against hers confidently, he expects to feel fireworks dance behind his eyelids. He expects heaven. 

 

It’s a nice kiss, sure. But there isn’t anything special about it. It’s no different than any other kiss he’s had. 

 

He pulls away, crestfallen, and she has an equally sad look in her eyes. They know, then, that they are  _ not _ soulmates. Not made for each other like they had thought. 

 

But they do like each other a hell of a lot. So they keep dating.

 

And then the shit with the Upside Down happens. Jonathan Byers comes into their lives. Steve gets mean, meaner than he’s ever been. 

 

Steve’s ego is still bruised with the force of Jonathan’s punches.

 

He knew, then, that Nancy and Jonathan had  _ something _ , some kind of connection. Nancy swears up and down it’s just friendship, just because they have  _ mutual emotional baggage _ . 

 

Steve knows that’s a fucking lie. But they keep up their relationship, for the rest of the school year - and through the summer - and then, in the blink of an eye, Steve is a senior in high school and has to start figuring shit out. Figuring his  _ life _ out. 

 

That’s when Billy Hargrove comes barreling into Hawkins, the harsh smell of smoke and gasoline in his wake. The first time Steve sees him as his car roars into the parking lot, both he and Nancy pause - wondering who the new person could be. It isn’t often that they see a car they don’t recognize in this tiny town. 

 

And when Billy steps out of the car, wearing denim on denim, curly, ratty hair down to his shoulders and a cigarette hanging between his lips, Steve instantly feels a sneer come to his face. 

 

He doesn’t like him. He hasn’t even talked to the guy yet, but just looking at him, he doesn’t fucking like him. The feeling is so strong it almost makes him sick.

 

The first time they interact is at Tina’s annual Halloween party. Billy struts in through the door, howling  _ That’s how you do it, Hawkins! _ , sweat and beer dripping down from his chin to his stomach. Steve’s mouth curls in disgust as he watches Tommy Hagan follow this new guy around like a lost little puppy. 

 

He’s not that sad about losing Tommy as a friend. He’s an asshole anyways, didn’t understand why he’d want to be with Nancy even though they weren’t soulmates like him and Carol. But it stings a little, to see Tommy’s allegiance shift to this new piece of trash so quickly. This new piece of trash with blonde hair and a devilish smile, who seems content to take Steve’s place as Hawkins’ resident dirtbag.

 

_ Good, _ Steve thinks.  _ Let him have my place _ . There are too many fucking crazy things in this world to worry about high school politics. 

 

Billy’s eyes lock with his from across the room and he is instantly shoving past people to come over to him, staring him down. He stares at Steve so intensely, deep blue eyes never straying from his face. He almost seems to be appraising him, measuring him. 

 

Steve takes in his costume - he’s the Terminator, apparently - and tries not to scoff out loud when Tommy taunts him about Billy taking his place as the  _ keg king _ . 

 

Billy’s got this air of confidence about him, everything from the position of his shoulders to the sway of his hips as he walks, which screams out that he thinks he is hot shit. 

 

Steve pulls off his sunglasses and squints at him. Revulsion settles in his stomach. 

 

That night, Nancy gets way too fucking drunk. When she ends up with a shirtful of punch, Steve tries to be a good, dutiful boyfriend and clean her up, but she starts spitting out hateful words to him, calling him bullshit, and them  _ bullshit _ . And that hurts - that really fucking hurts - because even though she isn’t his soulmate he cares so much for her, and really wants to be with her. He thinks they could be good for each other, even if they aren’t  _ made _ for each other.

 

And then, sloppily, she leaves the bathroom, and Steve follows close behind her, his head only slightly foggy in the haze of alcohol. He watches in equal parts dismay and disappointment as she stumbles her way over to Jonathan and plants a drunken kiss to his lips.

 

Her arms go slack as she kisses him and he instantly grabs at her shoulders, pulling her closer. When they pull away, he has a look of awe on his face, and she stares up at him, sobered, her blue eyes wide. 

 

_ Fuck that shit. _ Steve cannot believe he’s just watched as his girlfriend kissed another dude, who  _ seems _ to be her soulmate. He honestly can’t deal with that shit. 

 

He leaves in a rush, half-aware of the burning, angry stare of blue eyes from across the room. 

 

* * *

 

Billy Hargrove is the bane of Steve’s existence, he thinks. He’s only known him for barely a week, and already Steve dislikes him more than anyone else he’s ever met. It’s a strong, visceral feeling. Just the thought of Billy Hargrove’s stupid smug smile as he struts around the school makes Steve want to punch something, anything (but preferably that stupid smug smile right off of his stupid face). 

 

The guy clearly gets off on trying to annoy the fuck out of Steve, which he succeeds in doing every time he opens his damn mouth. He never seems to leave him alone. And on the basketball court they gravitate to each other, and Steve spends most of the scrimmage just listening to Billy blather on with his pathetic trash talk. 

 

When Billy does possibly the most douchebag move of all time, shoving Steve to the floor and then going for some kind of lame, under the leg lay-up, Steve wonders, panting for breath, if he could hurt his eyes from rolling them so hard. 

 

Billy looks at him with something unreadable from across the court, and if Steve didn’t know any better he might think this guy is waiting for a pat on the back or something. A gold star for all of his hard work.

 

He is startled out of his thoughts by Nancy calling his name, a pitying look on her face. When they get to the alleyway near the gym, Steve stands there dumbly, arms crossed and sweat dripping down his face, waiting for an explanation.

 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she explains, and her eyes are so damn sincere Steve has to look away. 

 

“Sorry you called me bullshit, or sorry that you immediately kissed another guy  _ after _ you called me bullshit?”

 

“Steve-”

 

“No, listen, Nance. Honestly, if you didn’t want to be with me, why did you date me for so long? If you knew you weren’t happy?”

 

“I was happy, Steve,” she insists, reaching forward to grab his hand. He yanks it away harshly and looks to the side of her face, suddenly transfixed on the brick wall behind her. “Don’t you want to meet your soulmate? How can you blame me for loving the guy who I was  _ made _ to be with?”

 

Steve scoffs and rubs his towel on his face, wiping away the sweat pooling there. “So you love  _ him _ , now, huh?”

 

She throws up her arms in exasperation. “Steve, I don’t know what to tell you! Did you think we would just go on together forever and never find out who our soulmates were? Listen, I am sorry that I was so mean to you, and I’m sorry that I kissed Jonathan in front of you. But I will not apologize for being with someone who I am literally destined to be with.”

 

He sighs deeply and rubs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure. I get that, Nancy.”

 

“Okay. Good. Because you and I both know that I can’t try to stay away from him now. I’ll get  _ sick _ .”

 

“You believe that shit?”

 

“Steve,” she says, all shocked. It’s the kind of facial expression that Steve would have once found endearing, but pisses him off now. “People have  _ died _ from resisting the pull of their soulmate bond!”

 

“I think that’s  _ bullshit _ .” 

 

She grits her teeth. “I’m leaving. Let me know when you are ready to act like a little less of an asshole.” 

 

* * *

 

Hargrove continues to get on his nerves. They don’t share any classes together - thank God for small victories - but basketball rapidly becomes Steve’s least favorite part of the day. He used to live for basketball practice, used to live for the proud smiles of his team and the satisfying  _ swoosh _ of the ball going into the hoop.

 

But now he’s getting used to listening to Hargrove’s crap and being thrown onto the court, so sticky with sweat that getting up pulls at his bare skin. 

 

Hargrove thinks he’s  _ better _ than him. Everything about him screams  posturing , like he needs to constantly prove himself.

 

And normally, Steve would be able to handle that - he’s usually got confidence in spades. The only problem is that Hargrove  _ is _ better than him, and ever since Nancy left him for Jonathan fucking Byers maybe, just maybe, his confidence has waned a bit. The whole macho-man act from Billy is kind of exhausting.

 

Billy even tries to give him advice, clasping his hand tightly and gritting at him to  _ plant his feet _ . The necklace that Hargrove always seems to wear dangles between them, and up close like this Steve can see the slight spattering of facial hair above Hargrove’s lip, the flush of his cheeks. 

 

He wants to punch him. So help him  _ God _ , he wants to fucking punch him. 

 

Things only get worse in the showers after practice, when Tommy starts teasing him about Nancy and Jonathan being fucking soulmates. Hargrove makes a strange attempt at comforting him, calling him a  _ pretty boy  _ mockingly, which makes Steve grimace. 

 

This guy doesn’t fucking stop talking, won’t quit until he gets a reaction out of Steve. And when Steve just looks ahead, ignoring him as best as he can, the prick has the absolute nerve to shut off his damn water. Steve stares at him, incredulously, and wonders how punishable an offense assault and battery is now that he’s 18. 

 

* * *

 

Upside Down shit happens real fast, and then Steve makes a friend. An honest-to-God, no underlying motives, friend. Dustin, the kid with the curly hair and something or other wrong with his teeth, is actually a cool little dude. The sting of losing Nancy begins to fade, if only because he’s too busy fighting off demodogs, as the kids call them.

 

The first time he meets Billy’s step-sister Max, a ferocious little girl with a fiery head of red hair, he bites his tongue. He wants to ask her how the hell she handles having Billy Hargrove for a step-brother, but he figures they’ve got more pressing matters on their hands. 

 

He takes it upon himself to protect the kids, putting himself in harm’s way, offering himself up as bait for a pack of hungry demodogs. 

 

He has never been _good_ , not really, always a bit of an asshole, a bit rough around the edges. And he probably says “shit” around the kids a little too much, but he’s proud of the fact that he’s been able to keep them safe. They seem to trust him almost instantaneously. 

 

Then Billy’s tires screech into the Byers’ driveway, and Steve  _ really _ has to protect them, lying through his teeth about Max. Billy eyes him again with that unreadable expression, and there’s almost a flash of hurt when Steve asks him if he was dropped on his head as a kid. 

 

But then whatever hurt he may feel goes away rapidly, replaced by that sick, taunting smile that Steve has gotten used to. 

 

The stupid shitheads blow their cover, and Steve expects the shove to the ground, but maybe not the harsh, solid kick that Billy delivers to his stomach. 

 

Something is off about Hargrove. Something’s not right about him. He’s always been a fucking dick, but he’s never been quite this  _ bad _ around Steve. The only way that he can think to describe him is as a loose cannon, ready to go off on just about anything that stands in his way.

 

Steve tries not to think too hard before finally giving into the long-held urge to punch him in his stupid fucking face. When he makes a fist and sucker punches him with a sickening crunch, Billy almost looks surprised. 

 

And then he just looks excited, wild glee flashing in his eyes.

 

It’s kind of exhilarating, fighting Billy like this. It’s so satisfying to get a couple of good blows in, drawing blood. Hargrove fucking  _ deserves _ it, and Steve has so much intense hate inside him that he actually thinks it might fuel him, might let him win this fight. 

 

And then Billy gets a dinner plate involved. Somewhere between the fourth and fifth punches to his face Steve begins to lose consciousness, staring up at Billy who has an intense look of what can only be described as  _ anguish _ on his face.

 

* * *

 

After the dust has settled following the Upside Down shit (and the fighting Billy shit), and once the bruises have faded and the pain is long forgotten, Steve tries to resume his everyday life. Tries to just build up his relationship with Dustin and the rest of the kids, goes to a few good parties, meets a new girl or two or six. He’s lost count of all the bodies he’s pressed against in a desperate attempt to find  _ the one _ .

 

Hargrove has been surprisingly docile. After the fight he quickly quit the basketball team, and then began to avoid all eye-contact with Steve. It’s maddening, the way Hargrove goes all silent whenever Steve’s around, pain in his blue eyes. 

 

Even though he got a lot of frustration out in the fight, Steve still feels a pull toward Billy, a pull to instigate shit. He  _ should _ have learned from the fight to just drop things and count his losses. 

 

But he mostly wants to egg Billy on, has a burning need in his core to make Billy mad, or at least to make Billy fucking  _ look at him _ already. And now that Billy’s incessant taunting is gone from his life, he finds himself missing it. 

 

The holidays pass in a blur. He mingles at his parents’ annual Christmas party and answers question after question. 

 

Is he going to go to college?  _ No. Never applied. _

 

Where will he work?  _ Don’t know. _

 

Has he found his soulmate yet?  _ Hell no.  _

 

During the spring semester he elects to take wood-shop with Mr. Simmons. Some part of him hopes that maybe woodworking could be his  _ thing _ , and that he’ll find out that even though his brain doesn’t seem to be able to do addition or write an essay, his hands will be able to make beautiful things. Maybe he will find something to do with his future, that scary, vast thing that always looms over his shoulders.

 

He runs late on the first day of class, and when he enters the room his stomach sinks to the floor. There’s only one seat left, and it’s right next to Hargrove, who is sitting twiddling his thumbs. 

 

He sits and Billy just stares straight ahead, ignoring him for the entire class. Steve’s palms itch with the need to say something, anything. The urge to pick a fight is overwhelmingly strong, and Steve feels himself getting more and more irate at the fact that Billy isn’t saying a word.

 

_ Jesus. _ This guy pisses him off when he’s talking too much, but he also seems to piss him off when he doesn’t say anything at all. 

 

Eventually, Billy seems to relax a little and resumes some of his prior taunting, first making snide comments about other people in the class, or about the teacher, as though he’s trying to be comrades or some shit. It makes Steve’s blood boil, especially when Billy begins to offer him unsolicited advice, looming over him as he does his work. 

 

“You aren’t doing that right.”

 

“Try holding that tool at more of an angle, it will turn out better.” 

 

“Harrington, it’s like you’ve never even  _ used _ a screwdriver before.”

 

Steve snaps, turning toward Billy so fast his head spins and there’s a rushing sound in his ears. “Shut the fuck up!” he bellows, shoving Billy by the shoulders as hard as he can. Billy looks affronted before his mouth flattens to a firm line. His fists tighten but he doesn’t push back. Instead he just turns and goes back to his own work. 

 

Steve gets detention for a week. He doesn’t regret it, not one bit. He only regrets not being able to get a reaction out of Hargrove.

 

Wood-shop continues and once again Billy has gone silent, never looking at him, never sending a sly smile in his direction.

 

It just pisses Steve off even more. 

 

Their current project is a birdhouse, and Steve is trying his hardest to make his presentable. Maybe he could give it to his mom for Mother’s Day this year, paint it all nice and show her that he isn’t a total fuck-up.

 

But it doesn’t really look nice right now. His roof is kind of lopsided, and the cutout for the little perch is uneven. He squints at it, trying to think of some way to salvage this project, and some tiny part of him wonders if Billy could help. 

 

Billy doesn’t offer him unsolicited advice, not anymore. Instead, Billy is working on his own birdhouse beside Steve in silence. His dark eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, eyes squinty, and his tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth. He’s carving intricate little designs in the birdhouse and - wait a second. Steve’s mind is all scrambled. Is that crown molding? Did Billy honestly create a birdhouse with  _ crown molding _ ?

 

It makes anger rise up in him, makes his cheeks flush with resentment. So he doesn’t think twice before he walks away from the table, under the guise of asking the teacher a question about something or other. 

 

And if his hand darts out to knock over Billy’s work, sending it crashing and breaking into a million tiny pieces all over the floor, well then that’s just a happy accident. 

 

Billy looks the tiniest bit crushed for a second, his entire face falling, before he’s crouching down to pick up the pieces, and looking up at Steve with fire in his eyes. Steve’s heart pounds in his chest, excitement building up. 

 

Hargrove silently, almost scarily cool, deposits the pieces of his broken birdhouse on the table. And then he leans forward and grinds out, fisting the collar of Steve’s polo shirt, “Jealousy is not a good look on you, pretty boy.”

 

Steve expects a shove, a punch,  _ anything _ . But those biting words are all he gets, and he is unreasonably disappointed. 

 

* * *

 

Steve is shopping absentmindedly at Benny’s Big Buy, arms full of everything a growing boy needs - a jar of applesauce, some cookies, some cereal that is more sugar than anything else. And then, lucky him, he sees Billy at the other side of the store, trailing behind an angry looking man with a mustache. Billy’s shoulders are hunched, hands shoved in the pockets of his denim jacket. He looks small. Young. 

 

“I don’t know why your step-mother needed me to waste my afternoon doing this,” the man complains.

 

“I dunno, dad.” 

 

“Here’s the list, Bill. I’m going to get a few things for myself.”

 

Steve turns the corner before Billy can see him and, in a fashion that he assumes is very subtle, he follows Billy around the store. Why on earth is the sight of Billy just loading items into a shopping cart making anger boil in the pit of his stomach? 

 

His arms are getting tired from holding his groceries. He can’t keep following Hargrove around like a lunatic. 

 

“Stalking me, Harrington?” Billy suddenly appears behind him, startling him out of his thoughts. He instantly drops everything in his hands, and the jar of applesauce shatters, tiny glass shards flying everywhere. 

 

“What the fuck?” he snarls and lurches forward, shoving Billy into the shelf behind him with a thud. Billy gets this look of panic in his eyes and then shoves back as hard as he can, and  _ finally, finally _ Steve gets the fight he’s been itching for. Billy pushes him across the aisle and shoves him into the shelf on the opposite side, almost slipping on the applesauce littering the floor. A can of vegetables tumbles off the shelf near Steve’s head, and Billy has a wild, angry look in his eyes. It’s about damn time. 

 

“What are you doing, son?” a stern voice asks, and Billy instantly drops his hands like he’s been burned. He pales and turns around to face his father. 

 

“Nothing, sir.” He sounds weaker than Steve has ever heard. It almost makes him feel  _ bad _ for the guy.

 

“What’s this mess?”

 

“I… uh…” Steve supplies weakly. Something about this man, Billy’s father, kind of gives him the creeps. “I just dropped some things. No big deal. Billy was helping me pick them up.”

 

The man looks at him suspiciously, and Billy stays quiet, eyes fixed on the floor. “Let’s go, Billy. I don’t have all day.”

 

Steve takes a deep, relieved breath. 

 

* * *

 

Things come to a head in the hallway the next day. As soon as the bell rings signalling the end of the school day, everyone in wood-shop pours out of the classroom. Billy grabs Steve by the arm on the way out, pulling him aside. Steve grits his teeth and shakes himself out of his grip.

 

“What the fuck do you want?”

 

“Listen, amigo,” Billy starts. His blue eyes fixate on him intensely. “Thanks for covering for me yesterday. But don’t you ever start that kind of shit with my dad around again, do you hear me?”

 

Steve squints and appraises Billy’s face. It’s subtle, like it’s covered by makeup, but there’s some discoloration on his jaw,  _ a bruise _ . Like he’s been punched. There’s a bit of a sick, twisted thought that maybe his dad hit him, and maybe if Steve  _ said _ something about it he’d really get the fight he’s been itching for.

 

It tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop it, a total shot-in-the dark idea. “What, don’t want daddy to hit you again?” he grits.

 

He doesn’t expect the totally crestfallen look in Billy’s eyes. His entire face falls, mouth gaping open. 

 

Steve does, however, expect what happens next. A fist hits his face with a hard crunch, making blood pool in his mouth. He tips his head back and gets ready to punch right back, but then the principal is dragging Billy away and the sound of sirens come into focus. 

 

Jesus fucking Christ. They actually called the cops. 

 

* * *

 

Hopper sits with them in the principal’s office, which has been cleared out for his use. He gazes at Steve with a harsh look of disappointment, the stare making Steve squirm in his seat. “Listen, boys. This is the fourth time that I have been alerted of... shenanigans between you two.”

 

Steve attempts to defend himself, but Hopper instantly shushes him. He leans back against the front of the desk, arms crossed. “If I ever catch you punks fighting again, I won’t hesitate to arrest you both. Do you hear me?”

 

Steve nods and Billy weakly grumbles, “Yes, sir.”

 

“Good. Now will you two just kiss already and get this all over with?”

 

“E-excuse me?” Steve stutters, inching forward in his seat. He turns and expects to see Billy looking just as shocked as he feels, but Billy’s mouth is just in a flat line, not much happening behind his eyes. 

 

“I know soulmates when I see them, Harrington.”

 

“Soulmates?” Steve questions, glancing back and forth between Hopper and Billy. He gestures toward the blonde, who is still expressionless. “You think we are  _ soulmates _ ?”

 

“Uh, kid,” Hopper chuckles a little. “It’s kind of obvious.” 

 

“But we hate each other!”

 

“It’s a thin line between love and hate. Soulmates just feel  _ intensely _ . Sometimes it’s so strong that you think you hate each other, until you kiss and the bond is sealed, of course. I’ve seen it happen a couple times, but never as drawn out as it is between the two of you.”

 

“You’re crazy, Hop.” Steve shakes his head and crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat. Billy stays quiet, eyes transfixed in his lap. “There’s no way in hell.”

 

“You can believe me or not, Steve. That’s your choice. But absolutely no fighting. Or else I  _ will _ arrest your asses.” 

 

Billy and Steve walk to the parking lot in silence. It’s deserted except for their cars, the day long over. Steve is a bit surprised to notice that Billy follows him to his car and stands there silently, kicking the ground with his boot. He looks nervous. 

 

“What?” Steve barks, ready to get in the car and drive away as fast as possible. 

 

“So the Chief thinks we're soulmates, huh?” Billy asks, darting his tongue out as he talks. Steve still doesn’t understand why he does that all the damn time.

 

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I guess. But he's  _ wrong. _ ” 

 

“Maybe you’re right, Harrington,” Billy concedes, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But should we…” Billy trails off, licking at his bottom teeth. “Should we find out for sure?”

 

Steve’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline. “I'm not kissing you, man. No way. I'm not a queer.”

 

“Me either!” Billy exclaims, hands waving around wildly as he talks. “But I'm not going to be able to stop considering it until I know for sure. Aren't you at all curious?”

 

Steve would be lying if he said no. He  _ is _ curious, cannot stop considering that maybe what Hop said was right. His eyes trail over Billy, taking in his big blue eyes, his strong jaw, wide muscular shoulders encased in a denim jacket. It’s all  _ wrong _ . 

 

His soulmate is supposed to be soft and pretty, with a girlish figure and a high voice. And he's supposed to actually  _ like _ his soulmate. 

 

But he can't get the possibility out of his head.

 

“Well, if we are going to test this thing out we can't do it here.” 

 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Billy bites.

 

They take their respective cars out to the quarry and lean against the roof of the Camaro. Steve wants to say something, anything to fill the awkward silence, but he can’t think of a damn thing to say. 

 

Billy lights a cigarette beside him and takes a drag, and then wordlessly passes it to Steve, who takes a puff of the smoke without a second thought. 

 

They pass it back and forth until it's a little nub and Billy squashes it out on the ground with the heel of his boot. Steve turns to tell him they should just give this all up - they are  _ not _ soulmates - but Billy grabs the side of his face harshly and leans forward, interlocking their lips in a kiss.

 

Stars dance behind Steve's eyes. He instantly kisses back, his arms snaking up to wrap around Billy's shoulders. It’s like everything he ever is or was intertwines with Billy, and the kiss breathes life into him. It's so intense his chest burns and his fingertips tingle, and suddenly he can't imagine any version of his life without Billy in it.

 

He is hyper aware of the slightly chapped roughness of Billy's lips under his, the musky scent of him that is partially cigarettes and also something else, the rough press of the pads of his fingertips against Steve's cheek. Steve’s soul sings. It’s a chaste press of lips, nothing fancy, but it’s enough to make Steve get hard in his jeans, enough to have his head swimming with want. 

 

Jesus fucking Christ. They're  _ soulmates _ . He had always wondered if he’d know instantly, how he’d know for sure. But the sensation is so strong, so unique, unlike anything else he’s ever felt in his entire life. And he knows. 

 

Billy pulls away, his eyes wide, lips parted, and Steve can see the way his eyelashes flare out dramatically. “Holy shit,” he breathes.

 

Steve is startled out of the haze of the kiss and panic sets in hard. No.  _ No way.  _ This isn't how this was supposed to be. He was supposed to kiss a nice, sweet girl who would smile at him and bat her eyelashes, not a rough, crude boy who can think of nothing better to say than  _ holy shit _ . 

 

He breaks away from Billy's grasp and runs to his car, getting in and starting the engine. He only distantly acknowledges the fact that Billy is desperately calling out to him, begging him to come back.

 

He drives away as fast as he can.

 

* * *

 

Steve skips school for a whole week, pretending to be his dad on the phone, and avoids Billy like the plague.

 

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels physically and mentally exhausted. Every time his head hits the pillow, his eyes widen and he stares up at the ceiling for most of the night. He tries everything he’s ever heard can help sleep - he drinks warm milk (which is  _ gross _ ), works out right before bed, even tries reading a book before laying down to tire out his mind. 

 

It doesn’t work. Nothing fucking  _ works _ . By the second day of not being able to get a wink of sleep, his body also begins a new, endearing routine of not being able to hold any food down. So between the lack of sleep and the lack of food, Steve doesn’t feel like he’s alive anymore. 

 

_ A stomach bug _ . He keeps repeating this in his head like a mantra.  _ Just a stomach bug.  _ This has nothing to do with his soulmate, nothing to do with resisting the bond with everything he has. 

 

Dustin eventually begs him to leave the house, just for a few hours to go to the arcade. Steve tentatively agrees and figures some air and company will be good for him, doubts his  _ stomach bug _ is contagious anymore. He looks in the mirror before he leaves, trying to fix his hair. No amount of Farrah Fawcett spray can fix the mess that is his face, however, so pale he’s almost green, with harsh blue circles under his eyes. 

 

When Dustin sees him he visibly recoils. “What happened to you, Steve?”

 

“I’m sick.”

 

“It looks like you have the plague. Do we need to take you to the hospital? Lucas!  _ Lucas _ ,” he calls into his radio. “I think we need to take Steve to the hospital. Over.”

 

“I do not need to be taken to the hospital, shithead.” Steve insists, driving toward the arcade. “I’m fine.”

 

Dustin nods suspiciously and calls into the radio again. “It’s a no on the hospital. We’ll meet you at the arcade as planned. Over.”

 

Once they get to the arcade, Steve begins to think this wasn’t such a good idea after all. The cacophony of chatter and the sounds of the games is so loud it starts to give him a pounding headache. He grabs onto the side of the Dig Dug console for purchase, gritting his teeth and trying not to vomit everywhere. 

 

Mike and Will are watching, enraptured, as Dustin futilely tries to break Max’s high score. “Any idea when Max and Lucas are gonna get here?” Mike asks, as Dustin beats the buttons on the game into a pulp. 

 

“Lucas said they had to wait for Billy to get home to pick them up.”

 

_ Billy _ . It’s the first time he’s heard the name aloud, the first time he’s allowed himself to even think about Billy in days. His mind conjures up an image of him, smiling devilishly, cheeks flushed and hair askew. Steve’s heart begs him for  _ Billy _ . 

 

He can’t breathe. He claws at his chest, trying to take desperate gulps of air. He feels like he’s underwater, sinking down below, drowning. His knees buckle and Dustin cries out his name, kneeling down beside him and begging, “Buddy, are you okay? Breathe, buddy, breathe.”

 

But Steve can’t breathe. His vision is blacking out, like some invisible force is grabbing him by the neck, and all he can think is  _ Billy _ over and over again. 

 

Strong arms wrap around him and the imaginary grip on his throat is released. He starts taking in giant, grateful gasps of air. His hands shake as he reaches up and clings to the body near him, breathing in musk and cigarettes. The soul bond sings. 

 

Billy pulls away slightly, looking at him with concern swimming in his blue eyes. Steve takes in his face and tries not to gasp out loud at what he sees. Billy is just as bad as he is, all pallored skin and lips, dark circles lining his eyes. Steve can’t look away from his eyes, so deep and blue, framed by long, girlish lashes. 

 

This is all wrong. This shouldn’t comfort him so much. Shouldn’t make him feel a little less like dying. But it does, and a voice inside him begs him to hold Billy tighter to him, to kiss him over and over until he’s satiated. 

 

“Fuck, Steve,” Billy grits, eyes darting all over Steve’s face. “I didn’t know it’d be like this.”

 

“Me either,” he responds lamely, still grabbing at Billy’s arm.  

 

“We can’t do this again.”

 

“I know.”

 

“It will kill us both.”

 

“I know that  _ now _ .”

 

Billy’s voice gets all breathy and whiny, and his voice hitches as he begs, “ _ Please _ don’t do this to me again. I can’t take it.” If Steve thinks too hard about the tone of Billy’s voice, he’s going to get a fucking migraine. 

 

Dustin appears with two cups of water and it suddenly dawns on Steve that they are still on the floor in the arcade, near the Dig Dug machine, a small crowd of kids gathering around them. He watches as Billy nods his thanks at Dustin and takes down the water in big gulps, his throat moving as he does it. Steve sips at his own cup tentatively, trying not to upset his stomach. 

 

Max’s eyes dart between the two of them as they stand up. Billy helps him to his feet, and Steve tries hard not to fling himself out of Billy’s grip. “So you two are soulmates?” she asks, and Billy nods. 

 

“You can’t tell Neil.”

 

“What, do you think I’m an  _ idiot _ ?” 

 

Billy gives her  _ a look _ . Steve feels something strangely close to affection bubbling up. He pushes it away as hard as he can. 

 

So Billy is his soulmate. Sure. 

 

But that does  _ not _ mean he has to be all lovey dovey with him. He doesn’t even  _ like _ him. The anger is gone, sure, replaced by something  _ else _ , but that doesn’t mean he suddenly wants to be boyfriend and boyfriend with fucking Billy Hargrove. There’s no way in hell. 

 

“Why don’t you guys go talk?” Max asks and gestures toward the door with her head. 

 

They end up the front seat of the Camaro in the parking lot. Billy rolls down the window slightly and lights up a cigarette. He hands it to Steve without a word and Steve grabs it, taking a grateful drag. 

 

“This isn’t going to change anything,” Steve murmurs, crossing his arms. Billy’s car smells like  _ him _ , and he’s more than a bit ashamed to admit that it’s lulling him to sleep, his eyes threatening to close at any moment. 

 

“Okay,” Billy says simply. There’s something in his facial expression, maybe a slight pinch to his eyebrows, that makes him look upset. Steve gets it. He’s not crazy about this soulmate thing either. 

 

“Why should we suddenly change because the universe decides it? I mean, we don’t even  _ like _ each other.”

 

“Right,” Billy responds curtly, finishing his cigarette and tossing it out of the window. “We can’t stay away from each other, though. That shit almost killed me.”

 

“Me too,” Steve admits weakly, his eyes closing. He’s getting sucked into unconsciousness but tries to fight it, blinking rapidly to try to clear the haze. 

 

“Just sleep, man,” Billy murmurs. “I’ll be here.”

 

Sleep overtakes him almost embarrassingly quickly. 

 

* * *

 

They start a routine, see each other almost every day. They have to, or else insomnia and fatigue start kicking in, and Steve doesn’t really care to go through all that again. 

 

So, whether Steve likes it or not, he has to spend time with Hargrove. 

 

Sometimes they go to the movies. The first time, the day after Steve collapsed and then fell asleep in Billy's car, they share a giant tub of popcorn and Billy insists on slathering it in butter. Billy wants to pay him back for the food and the drinks but Steve refuses. He keeps whispering during the movie and Steve elbows him hard. It's a little too close to a date for comfort. 

 

Other times they go to the arcade with the kids. Steve quickly discovers that Billy loves Pacman to a fault, and hogs the machine. Steve watches on closely and sabotages his game, bumping into him from time to time. A ghost gobbles up his character and Billy looks about ready to shove him. It makes Steve laugh so hard he cries. 

 

Sometimes, if they get particularly sloshed, which tends to happen more often than not, Billy ends up sleeping on Steve’s couch when his parents aren’t home. Steve won’t admit it, but it’s comforting to know that he’s there. 

 

The anger has dissipated slightly. Now that Steve understands why he felt so deeply, so intensely, the desperate need to pick fights and cause trouble is mostly gone. It's replaced by dismayed... fondness. 

 

They aren’t lovers. There’s no way in hell. But, slowly but surely, what they have approaches  _ friendship _ . Steve is hard pressed to admit it. There’s so much about Billy that still irritates him. He drives way too fast. He’s quick to anger. When he drinks, he gets fucking gross. 

 

But he’s witty, always ready to supply a conversation with some off-handed, sarcastic retort that makes Steve bite the inside of his cheek trying not to laugh. And sometimes he cooks for Steve, and Steve finds out that he  _ really _ loves comfort food, and uses a bit too much butter in all of his recipes. He protects Max so fiercely it comes across as angry, but Steve knows he would do anything to keep her safe. He laughs loudly -  _ obnoxiously _ \- at reruns of the Three Stooges. 

 

But even still, Steve thinks this whole soulmate thing must be a screw up of cosmic proportions. 

 

* * *

 

“Riddle me this, Harrington,” Billy starts, taking a bite out of his sandwich. The noise of the cafeteria makes Steve strain to hear him. It's probably weird that they are sitting together at school, but Steve knows that there are whisperings of their status as soulmates in the hallways. He neither confirms nor denies it when Tommy accosts him after practice. “How can it be that Vicki Carmichael still does not understand that I am  _ not interested _ ?” 

 

“Oof. Vicki Carmichael is after you? Good luck man. I’ll pray for you.”

 

“Ha -  _ ha _ ,” Billy bites sarcastically. “Seriously though. How do I get rid of her?”

 

“Why does she even think you’d be interested anyway?”

 

Billy shoves Steve an Oreo Big Stuff from across the table. Steve unwraps it and takes a bite. “I took her on a couple dates back in October.”

 

“You took fucking Vicki on a date? Man, that’s a death sentence! Anyone could have told you that. That girl is  _ creepy _ .” 

 

“Well  _ I _ didn’t know that. Can I have a sip of your milk?” Steve wordlessly slides his carton of milk across the table and Billy takes a grateful sip, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

 

“Rest in peace, man. You’re gonna have to marry her. I hope I get invited to the wedding.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington,” Billy replies, and there’s no bite to it, just a smile and a hint of a laugh at the end. Steve smiles back easily.

 

So they aren’t lovers. No way. 

 

But friends is something that Steve is beginning to accept. 

 

But the soulmate bond wants  _ more,  _ never satisfied with friendly banter or smiles and jokes. It wants much more than just shared drinks and watching movies together. The bond wants to kiss Billy,  _ touch _ Billy, and Steve resists it with everything he has. 

 

Sometimes their hands brush, or their arms or knees touch when they sit side by side, and something in Steve sings with joy. He tries to pretend he doesn’t notice. 

 

There must be some kind of mistake here. There is no way that they are meant to be with each other like _ that. _ Surely, there must exist platonic soulmates, somewhere in the world.

 

The dreams are the worst part. He has vivid, intense dreams of him and Billy in all sorts of compromising positions. He wakes up most mornings with a mess in his shorts, like he’s thirteen years old again and just discovered what tits are. The worst thing is when he wakes up with his dick stiff and leaking between his legs, brain still in the foggy haze of dreamland, and he can’t help but wrap his hand around his cock, imagining blue eyes and a tight ass,  _ Billy _ on his tongue. 

 

* * *

 

One night they sit on Steve’s couch, bellies full of pizza. They’re watching National Lampoon’s Vacation, which Steve has seen approximately 10 billion times but still finds a little too funny.

 

Billy’s being obnoxious, his legs spread out on the couch, feet near Steve’s lap. And he isn’t laughing at the movie, just occasionally cracking a smile. Steve grits his teeth. Sure, the anger is mostly gone, but Billy still knows how to push Steve’s buttons. He keeps making comments throughout the movie, and Steve just wants to watch it in  _ peace _ . 

 

Billy is one of those people who can’t shut up during movies and it makes Steve want to smother himself in a pillow. 

 

“This is  _ so _ fucking unrealistic,” Billy complains, watching as the Griswolds ride the roller coaster at Wally World. Steve laughs out loud at them on the pirate ship ride, because something about Clark loosely holding a gun to that security guard on the fucking rides cracks him up. 

 

“It’s a movie, Billy,” he says through his laughter. “It doesn’t have to be realistic.”

 

“Yeah, but, how am I supposed to laugh when I’m too busy thinking about everything wrong with it?” Billy waves toward the TV, swinging his legs off the couch. “If the park is closed, then how the hell are the rides working?”

 

“I dunno.”

 

“They have  _ operators _ for that shit, Steve. They don’t just go on their own.”

 

“Do you want to write a letter to John Hughes?” Steve sasses, standing up and crossing his arms. 

 

Billy squints. “No, I’m just  _ saying _ that it doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“Will you just shut the fuck up already and watch the damn movie?” It comes out a little harsher than Steve intended. 

 

Billy stands up too and pushes himself into Steve’s space. His eyebrows are furrowed and his gaze is intense. “What the hell is wrong with you, Harrington?” 

 

“What the hell is wrong with  _ you? _ Why can’t you just shut up for two seconds and watch the damn movie?”

 

Billy takes a step closer, and then they are pressed against each other, faces close. Up close like this Steve is forced to stare deeply into Billy’s eyes, and his nostrils are filled with the smell of him. His head swims, and he starts to harden in his jeans. “Fuck off,” Billy bites out, and Steve clenches his fist, ready to strike. 

 

But his hands move of their own accord, instead reaching down and grabbing Billy’s big hand in his. He pulls it close and presses Billy’s hand against the tent in his own pants, moaning at the little friction that Billy’s hand provides. Billy gasps, a loud, raspy thing that makes Steve’s stomach tighten. Without any hesitation Billy reaches for Steve’s belt, unbuckling it quickly and then opening his fly. His hands are shaking, Steve notices, and his pupils are blown wide. Steve’s face feels fiery hot.

 

Billy drops to his knees with a hard thud that makes Steve wince. He is panting and desperate, pressing sloppy kisses all over Steve’s hips. He looks up at him with those big blue eyes and Steve can’t stand the way it makes him feel. He grabs a fist full of Billy’s blonde hair and tugs  _ hard _ , half expecting him to pull away from the pain. Instead he just whines and it makes Steve’s dick leak precum at the tip. 

 

Steve’s received blowjobs before of course, but girls are so tentative about it. Billy is anything  _ but _ tentative, taking out Steve’s hard length and then wrapping his thick lips around Steve’s cock and sucking him down. Steve howls, fingers tightening in Billy’s hair and Billy whimpers - honest to God, fucking  _ whimpers _ \- around his dick. 

 

“Fucking hell,” Steve grits, tugging Billy even closer. He gags slightly on Steve’s cock and looks up at him with bleary, watery eyes. Steve goes to pull away, wonders if he’s pushed too hard, but Billy grabs Steve’s ass tightly and pulls him closer, his throat relaxing to take in Steve’s full length. It’s the hottest thing Steve has ever seen, ever felt, in his entire fucking life.

 

His breaths come out in loud pants as Billy’s mouth bobs up and down on his cock, his tongue swirling the head on the upstroke. He won’t stop  looking up at Steve, and there’s drool pouring from the sides of his mouth. It’s filthy and kind of  _ gross _ , just like everything else about the blonde, but it sends Steve flying toward the edge of orgasm. 

 

“Yes,” he breathes as Billy sucks harder. “You love this, don’t you?” Billy moans and Steve tugs at his hair again. “You can’t wait for me to come in your little mouth, swallow it all down.” 

 

Billy is full-on moaning at this point, tears still swimming in his eyes, enveloping Steve in such tight, warm, wet heat that Steve feels like he’s going to fucking explode. He groans as he watches Billy reach down to rub at himself through his jeans. 

 

His eyebrows pinch and he closes his eyes tight, moaning around Steve’s cock as he brings himself to the edge, coming with just a few rubs to his dick. That’s enough to make Steve come, too, his entire body tightening and feverish moans escaping his parted lips, as Billy swallows it all down his throat. 

 

Billy pulls away, gasping for breath, a little satiated smile on his face. Steve pants hard, trying to catch his breath, and the soulmate bond is overjoyed. 

 

* * *

 

Days pass and they don’t talk about it. Steve doesn’t initiate anything sexual with Billy, doesn’t dare touch him, and Billy doesn’t comment on it. It freaked him out, how much he enjoyed it. Now that he’s had Billy, he doesn’t know how he’ll handle not having him again.

 

Fuck. Everything is a mess, he thinks, sipping at one of his dad’s top shelf whiskeys and staring absentmindedly at the TV. It’s late, so there isn’t anything decent on, but he can’t be fucked to try to find anything. 

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to give into the soulmate feelings, was never supposed to be with Billy in  _ that way _ . Was never supposed to have Billy’s lips wrapped around his cock. 

 

He was supposed to make the whole platonic soulmates thing work. 

 

He doesn’t know what to do. The alcohol makes it a little easier to deal with. 

 

There’s a hard, thudding knock at the door and Steve rushes to answer it, his legs feeling like Jello as he walks. He swings open the door, and the sight at the other side is sobering. Billy stands there, hands in his pockets. 

 

His  _ face _ . Holy fuck his face. “Yeah, I know,” Billy grumbles, stepping into the house. Did Steve say that out loud? His head suddenly pounds. 

 

Billy's got a gnarly, angry bruise on his right cheek, and his eyes are all swollen and puffy, like he’s been crying. 

 

“What happened?” Steve questions as he runs into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen vegetables. 

 

Billy heaves a sigh and presses the peas to his face. “Doesn’t matter.”

 

“Of course it matters, Billy! You're hurt.”

 

“My dad found out my soulmate was a guy. Wasn’t happy about it.” Billy grits out, eyes focused on the counter-top.

 

Steve feels a rush of anger that is so fucking strong his fists tighten and his cheeks flush. “I'm gonna kill him,” he grits. Billy looks up at him, eyes wide. “I am going to fucking  _ kill  _ him.”

 

Billy's face goes cold. “I'm surprised you care, Harrington.” 

 

“Yes, I care! You're my -”  _ soulmate _ , his mind supplies. “Friend,” he finally settles on.

 

Billy scoffs and his face tightens. “Right, your  _ friend _ .” 

 

“Of course you're my friend.”

 

“Did you ever stop to think…” Billy starts, dangerously monotone. “That maybe I don't want to be your friend, Steve?”

 

Steve’s heart sinks. “What are you talking about?”

 

Billy laughs mockingly and shakes his head. “Not once,” he mutters. “Not once have you ever asked me what I want out of all of this.”

 

“Well, I just -” 

 

Billy's eyes are wild and he drops the peas on the counter with a thud. “You just assumed. You just assumed that I was content with just being your friend.”

 

“But… we  _ hate _ each other Billy.” It’s a weak argument. A cop-out. 

 

“You honestly still believe that?” he questions desperately, grabbing Steve's shoulders and shaking him. Steve feels dizzy. “Just fucking admit it already. You're my soulmate. We are meant to be together.”

 

Steve says silent, unable to make the words come. Billy drops his arms and shakes his head. “You go around playing this saintly role, all doe-eyed, acting like you are a gift to God’s green earth. Well, you aren’t. You can be such a fucking asshole, Steve,” he grits before stomping out of the house, slamming the door behind him with a hard  _ bang.  _

 

Steve feels like he's going to vomit. 

 

* * *

 

He just wants to sleep. He’s in bed, staring at the ceiling, desperately hoping and praying that sleep will overtake him, but he knows it won’t.

 

It’s been two days since he’s last seen Billy. Two days since he fucked up royally and basically rejected his fucking soulmate in his kitchen. The thought of Billy’s hurt facial expression, the betrayal in his eyes when Steve just stood there and said  _ nothing _ makes his chest tighten. Tears come to his eyes and he rolls over, burying his face in his pillow. 

 

He’s tries to call him. Once, his dad answers the phone and he immediately hangs up. Another time, the phone rings and rings and rings with no answer. He even goes to the middle school after the bell rings to try and catch sight of Billy’s car, but Max skateboards out of the building, shaking her head at him.

 

Fucking shit. He’s got so much fucking thinking to do. He cares about Billy, he  _ does _ , and he’s attracted to him, that’s painfully obvious. But it’s so hard for him to rewrite his whole idea of what his soulmate was supposed to be, what his life was supposed to look like. 

 

He is startled out of his thoughts by the buzz of his walkie talkie. “Steve! Steve, it’s an emergency. Over.”

 

He reaches over to his bedside table and picks it up, presses the button to talk. “What’s up, Dustin?”

 

“We’re in the junkyard and… I think there’s a dog out here. Over.”

 

Steve sits up so fast his head spins. “What the hell are you doing there?” 

 

“We were just doing some investigating! We started hearing growls so we’re hiding in the RV. Lucas already radioed Max. Bring your  _ bat _ . Over and out.”

 

Steve drives at a frantic pace, flooring it the entire way there. When he gets to the junkyard, hopping out of the driver’s seat of the Beamer, bat held tightly in his hands, the kids aren’t in the RV as they had mentioned, but are standing outside of it talking intently. His arms are shaking slightly and his head is foggy.  _ Fuck, _ he thinks. Why did this have to happen when he is running on basically no sleep? He’s going to be fucking useless like this. 

 

“Are you guys okay? Where’s the dog?”

 

“I don’t know, Steve. It stopped growling!”

 

“Why the hell aren’t you in the RV, shithead? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” 

 

Dustin looks at him sheepishly. At least he has the decency to look guilty about it. 

 

The harsh squeal of tires fills Steve’s ears and he turns around, watching as Billy’s blue car comes into view. Max jumps out before he even comes to a complete stop, immediately running to Lucas’ arms. Billy gets out slowly, a cigarette hanging from his lips. The sight of him makes Steve’s heart hammer in his chest. He looks tired.  “Well, well,” he says, stepping forward. “The hell is going on, Harrington?” It reminds Steve of another, distant night. 

 

“This is going to sound crazy, Billy,” Steve starts, stepping forward slowly. “But there are monsters here.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Billy demands angrily. “This is really pathetic, you know that, Steve? Why can’t you just level with me? Why do you have to orchestrate this whole fucking plot just to talk to me?”

 

Steve would respond, but a growl echoes throughout the junkyard, and a dog comes into view behind Billy, inching closer to Steve’s  _ soulmate.  _

 

Its terrifying leaf-shaped mouth opens wide, ready to pounce at the blonde, who is oblivious as to what is behind him. 

 

The thought of Billy getting hurt crosses his mind for a split second. It’s devastating, makes Steve’s heart crumple in his chest.

 

He rushes forward, then, shoving Billy out of the way and hitting the dog with as much power as he can muster, satisfied when it falls to the ground and he is able to hit it again. 

 

_ once  _ \- the thought of it biting into Billy making him want to vomit -

 

_ twice  _ \- the thought of living in a world without Billy there making him hit even harder, crying out with the force of his blows -

 

_ three _ times - the clear, lucid thought, like finally getting past the fog on a dark, dark night:  _ I would die for him  _ ringing in his head - before the creature is finally dead. 

 

And then, once it’s done, Steve’s eyes roll back in his head and he finally succumbs to the exhaustion, world going black. 

 

* * *

 

He wakes and the very first thought in his head is  _ Billy _ .

 

He realizes surprisingly quickly, considering the fog in his brain, that he’s lying on the Byers’ lumpy couch. He hears a quiet sob and glances down.

 

Billy is on his knees beside the couch, his hands clasped around his medallion and eyes squeezed tight. His mouth his moving quickly in what seems to be a silent prayer. 

 

His shoulders are shaking as he mouths the words, and Steve finally admits to himself what he feels curling in his chest. 

 

It’s affection. Pure affection, so strong it makes tears prick at his eyes. It’s a relief to finally be able to just be honest with himself.

 

He reaches down and gently pets Billy’s hair. His blue eyes fly open. “Steve!” he croaks, and then he buries his face in Steve’s lap, shoulders shaking even harder. 

 

“Billy,” Steve murmurs in reply. “Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.”

 

“Jesus, Steve.” Billy wipes at his eyes furiously. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” he breathes out, continuing to pet Billy’s hair in a manner that he hopes is comforting and not patronizing. 

 

“I have to tell you something, Steve,” he gasps out. “I have to tell you.”

 

Steve nods solemnly and sits up slightly. His body hurts and his throat is dry, but water can wait until after he’s heard what Billy needs to say. “Okay. Tell me.”

 

“I’ve known you were my soulmate this whole time, Steve,” Billy rasps out in a rush. Steve’s lips part. “I  _ never _ hated you. I’ve known since Tina’s Halloween party.”

 

“ _ What? _ ” Steve thinks about their interactions - basketball practice, the fight that happened right here in this living room, all of the taunting and egging on that Steve put him through. He thinks about Billy having feelings through all of  _ that _ , and his heart aches. 

 

“Even when we fought, Steve,” Billy is crying again, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyelashes dark and damp. “I knew. I knew, and you seemed to hate me  _ so much _ , and my dad gave me shit that night, and I took it out on you. I hurt you so fucking bad.”

 

“Billy,” Steve soothes, pitying. He doesn’t blame Billy for it. He’s done bad things, too. He  _ gets _ it. 

 

“I could have killed you! I’ll never forgive myself for it. So I understand why you hate me, Steve. I understand why you don’t want to be with me, and I won’t expect anything from you ever again.”

 

“Billy -”

 

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I’m a monster. I get it if you don’t even want to be  _ friends _ with me. I’m sorry you ended up with a soulmate like me.”

 

“I’m not,” Steve says adamantly. Billy looks at him, confusion in his eyes. “I’m not sorry to have a soulmate like you.” Billy finally smiles, then, so bright and genuine that Steve’s stomach tumbles. “In the junkyard, I imagined a world without you in it. And I realized that I would die for you.”

 

Hope glimmers in Billy’s blue eyes and he inches a little closer, clasping Steve’s hand tightly.

 

“I would die for you too, Steve,” he rasps and kisses the back of Steve’s hand. Steve’s chest tightens.

 

“You’re mine. And I’m yours. We were made for each other.” It feels so good to finally admit it, like there’s a weight off of his chest. 

 

Billy leans up and joins their lips together sweetly, initiating their first kiss since that night at the quarry when Steve felt his whole life was ruined. 

 

But now, as they kiss gently, Billy’s big palm holding the side of Steve’s face, his shoulders shaking yet again, but this time with  _ laughter _ , Steve doesn’t feel like is world is ending. 

 

No, he feels like life is just beginning, new and fresh, and he can do anything. He can handle anything, be  _ anything _ , as long as Billy is at his side. 

 

His missing piece. The soul that was crafted just for his. 

 

Steve holds him tight and kisses him over and over, dizzy with the sensation. 

 

No amount of kisses will ever be enough to satisfy the ache he has for Billy, he thinks. Nothing he ever does or says will ever make him worthy of such a dazzling connection.

 

But he’ll spend the rest of his life trying. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> tell me whatchu think


End file.
